


Climbing Vines

by gummycola



Series: Subverting Expectations [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Butler!America, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gardener!England, M/M, Porn in second chapter only, Swearing, UKUS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:48:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27272941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gummycola/pseuds/gummycola
Summary: When Alfred had heard the new gardener was being imported from England, he’d imagined a posh, upright gentleman, well-suited for a posh, upright home.Arthur isn't exactly that--but they end up friends anyway. Can Alfred let go of his 'rules' so they can be more?
Relationships: America/England (Hetalia)
Series: Subverting Expectations [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1991305
Comments: 12
Kudos: 65





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The attempted trope reversal was Proper!Alfred and Ruffian!Arthur but while I didn't succeed at that, I like what I ended up with and I hope you will too. 
> 
> First chapter is rated T (one swear, flirting, mention of smoking/drinking)  
> Upcoming second chapter will contain smut

When Alfred had heard the new gardener was being imported from England, he’d imagined a posh, upright gentleman, well-suited for a posh, upright home.

When Arthur had arrived in faded dungarees covered in punk rock insignia, smoking a hand-rolled cigarette and _tipsy at one in the afternoon_ , Alfred had simply sighed, considered the matter another example of the moral failure of the world at large, and directed someone to show the man to his duties.

It was nearly two weeks before he had to bother with him face-to-face. The grounds were in awful shape, so Arthur had plenty to keep him busy, and since the lady of the house was away for a long while, Alfred had ordered several other repairs and tasks which needed his attention.

He’d taken a break from it all and was outside playing with the puppies when Arthur approached.

“Now here’s a man. Those muscles just for show or can you help me with something, mate?”

Alfred felt his face heat at being caught rollicking with the pups. His clothes had already been filthy from cleaning out the attic, so he hadn’t been worried about it, but he swiped uselessly at them now and stood to his full height. Arthur just leaned against the fence, smirking.

“Wouldn’t bother, honestly. If you lend me a hand, you’ll get dirtier than that.” Arthur said in a low tone, green eyes mischievous. Or was Alfred imagining that? He wasn’t exactly great at telling when someone was flirting with him.

Alfred decided to give him the benefit of the doubt—because flirting with your chief of staff during working hours was certainly inappropriate, no matter how green your eyes might be. He smiled blandly.

“How can I assist?”

* * *

“Motherf—fudger.” Alfred managed as they finally eased the last piece of the broken wrought iron gate into the back of the truck. Arthur, who was panting from exertion, still managed a hearty chuckle.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn ya. Thank heavens you’re so bloody hench, otherwise this rubbish would be here forever.”

Alfred paused from guzzling water to tilt his head at the other man. “Hench?”

Arthur looked away at that. “Ah.” He fiddled with his gloves. “Fit, muscular and all that. How d’you manage that anyway? Being a butler involve a lot of heavy lifting?”

“Apparently.” Alfred gestured toward the pile of metal before them. “But, no, not typically. I work out daily, one of the benefits of living in the house. Full private gym.”

Arthur’s brows raised. “Issat so? Didn’t know that was here.”

“Didn’t you get the tour?” Alfred frowned. “Any of the staff can use it, provided it’s not during working hours and they follow the rules.”

Arthur just smiled at him. “I haven’t actually been in the house.” He admitted. Before Alfred could interject, he raised his hands placatingly. “It’s just, I’m always so filthy from working out here, sweaty and grimy and I— I don’t want to mess up the carpet or anything, or scare the womenfolk.” He winked. “S’not my place.”

“Of course it’s your place!” Alfred shook his head, his mussed blond hair become even more wild. “Where do you eat lunch, then?”

“The potting shed is shockingly well-appointed.” Arthur said, slipping into a snooty voice at the end.

“Where do you go to the bathroom?!” Alfred blurted, before he realized what he was asking. Arthur just cackled at him, slapping him playfully with the glove he’d removed.

Just then, Lili crested the hill above, shielding her eyes to peer into the gloomy, overgrown area they’d been clearing. “Mr. Jones, is that you? Lunch is ready!”

Arthur was already shaking his head when Alfred turned the full-force of his smile on him. “Mr. Kirkland, I insist.”

“I don’t have anything to wear.”

“You can borrow something of mine, then.”

Arthur’s eyes widened, then narrowed. He smiled. “Well, since you _insisted._ ”

* * *

Everyone was quickly charmed by the Englishman, despite his rough exterior—everyone except Francis, whose ire Arthur had drawn the moment he’d badmouthed his croquettes.

Alfred felt very guilty that Arthur had been so—so _left out_ _._ Thus, he made an effort to spend time with Arthur every day.

It started with a brief walk to the greenhouse in the mornings after breakfast. Then, he started bringing his coffee there, and eventually, a travel mug of tea for Arthur, who always waited too long to brew his and ended his morning tasks irritable and sleepy.

They spent these mornings together quietly. Alfred wasn’t a morning person, despite getting up at the crack of dawn for years, and Arthur seemed to feel the same. The gardener made more conversation with the plants than he did with Alfred—he grumbled at flowers and succulents, argued with fertilizer, and cursed at pots and watering cans.

He hummed, too, sometimes, when he was caught up in sketching and scribbling in his notebook. Alfred liked that best.

Arthur started joining him when he walked the dogs in the afternoon. He got away with calling it work by pretending to pull weeds or justified it as ‘observing the grounds,’ and Alfred, well, he was soft with everyone (except himself), when it came down to it.

Maybe a little _extra_ soft with some people.

When the day was done, there was no need for pretense, and the two would escape into town for a beer, or drive twenty minutes to the cinema, arguing over the radio the whole way. At the end of the evening, they’d always go their separate ways—a lonely trip back to a lonely house for Alfred, a tiny flat for Arthur.

It was all good clean fun, a nice friendship, nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing inappropriate. Friendships weren’t against any rules—heck, they were supposed to be a benefit of the job. _Technically_ , romance wasn’t against any rules either, but Alfred had his own rules.

He must have been mistaken about Arthur’s interest anyway. It all seemed perfectly platonic, now.

* * *

“I told you—”

“Oh, would you hush!”

“I _told_ you we needed to go back!” Alfred yelled, but he was laughing. He had his jacket over his head, though it did little to block the absolute deluge drowning them both.

The house was at least fifteen minutes away in good weather, and they were both slipping about like idiots. Arthur’s boot slid right out from under him, and Alfred caught him by the arm, pulling him against his side.

“There’s a storage shed we can wait it out in near here. I’ve got the key on me.”

They kept their arms about each other’s middles, though it probably made the journey more difficult. By the time Alfred slipped the key into the lock (“I’ll never poke fun at your ridiculous color-coded keyring again.”) they were soaked through to the bone and shivering.

A lone yellow lightbulb revealed the clean and orderly interior of the shed, and its contents.

“What the bloody fuck is _that_ monstrosity?” Arthur sputtered, taking a tentative step back toward the door. Alfred was too busy giggling to admonish him for the profanity.

“This shed is just for Easter stuff. We do a huge egg hunt, in the field just outside. That’s the bunny costume. Actually, we need someone to volunteer to wear it next April…”

“Not on your life. I don’t much fancy traumatizing the local children.” He paused to slip out of a wet t-shirt and kick off his boots. “I don’t suppose there are blankets hiding in one of these boxes?”

Alfred was already eyeing the shelves and bins, trying to keep his eyes off of his half-naked friend. “There should be something actually, yeah. Oh, this will work!” He pulled out a couple neatly folded fleece blankets, which he immediately dropped upon turning to find Arthur in only his boxers and socks.

“That impressive, eh?” Arthur waggled his heavy eyebrows at him as Alfred colored impressively, picking up a blanket to throw it in the other man’s direction.

Once they were all swaddled up—Alfred had forced Arthur to face the wall with the bunny costume hanging on it as he’d slipped down to his undershirt and briefs—they settled in to wait the storm out with a set of egg-themed playing cards Arthur had dug out of a prize box.

“If you don’t want to be the bunny, what about Santa Claus? We have a fat suit.” Alfred teased as he lost another round of gin rummy.

“Depends.” Arthur leaned forward to shuffle the cards, his blanket revealing his almost-nude frame, causing Alfred to lose even more focus. “You going to sit on my lap and tell me you’ve been a good boy?”

Alfred looked up in shock to find Arthur gazing at him steadily, face inquisitive, calculating. Ready to make a move? Ready to make a joke? Alfred didn’t know.

He’d have to take a gamble. He’d have to break a rule.

“What if I’ve been a bad boy?”

Arthur leaned closer, palms flat on the floor. “ _Have_ you?”

“Not yet.”

Arthur smirked. “Now see here. I thought you were the one rubbing off on me, not the other way ‘round. What sort of mischief you planning?”

Alfred licked his lips and held bright green eyes with his own. He listened to their breathing, quick, close, loud over the steady thump of rain outside. “Something like…” He tentatively touched his fingers to the smooth, pale curve of Arthur’s face. Arresting eyes fluttered closed, and Arthur leaned into the touch.

Alfred kissed him, hard. Well, if he was breaking the rules, he was going to make it count.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Smut ahead! Fingering and anal sex.   
> If you don't want to read the smut portion, scroll down to the page break for a fluffy epilogue.

“Ouch! Bloody—I understand why I’ve got to come in through the window, but I don’t know why the _lights_ need to be out, love.”

“Oh, oh right, yeah, that’s—heh, yeah.” A click, and warm light revealed Alfred’s modern and orderly suite. Arthur was immediately relieved that the bedroom was totally at odds with the rest of the house. He took in the flat screen television with gaming consoles nestled underneath, the framed movie posters, the shelves of knickknacks and paperback books.

Tossing his travel bag on the bed—he’d get plenty acquainted with _that_ piece of furniture later—he began nosing around the room, starting with the books. Alfred shuffled over to his side.

“Just some sci-fi stuff, it’s pretty silly. I usually just get books from the library, you know, when I go to pick them up for—”

Arthur put a finger to his lips to stop the babble before it could begin. He turned, dragging the finger down his throat and leaning up for a kiss. When they parted, he wagged the same finger in Alfred’s face.

“No work talk. That’s the rule, right?”

“Right!” Alfred chirped loudly. He clamped a hand over his mouth before continuing in a near whisper “Um, I’ll get us something to drink.”

Arthur followed him to the kitchenette, and they sat at the table together, drinking and relaxing.

“You know, if you’d just tell her, you’d be a lot less anxious about all this. And I wouldn’t have to trample my beautiful grass climbing into the window.”

Alfred giggled, trailing a finger along the back of Arthur’s hand in a way that quickened the Englishman’s pulse far more than it should have. “I’ll tell her soon, I promise. She’s just been in a terrible mood lately. Anyway, nothing is going to make me less nervous about…”

Arthur snorted into his beer and Alfred pushed away from the table and stood, pouting. “Don’t make fun! We almost—on—in a shed! Our first time, it’s—well.” He turned away, trying to hide his reddening face.

Arthur felt so ludicrously fond of him in that moment he was almost disgusted with himself. “Then the bar’s awful low, innit? I’d have been happy with the shed, personally.” He stood and wrapped his arms around Alfred’s middle, enjoying the feel of firm muscle beneath his fingers. “But alright, pet, alright. Let me help you relax.”

Eager to get his hands on all that smooth, tan skin again, Arthur coaxed him out of his shirt, praising all that muscle until Alfred burrowed into the blankets, facedown, to get away. Well, that was fine by Arthur, who straddled him quickly, rubbing his palms against him.

He muttered and cursed at the knots in Alfred’s back. It reminded the butler of the way Arthur teased apart plant roots and turned soil. Deliberate, careful, intentional—the attention was enough to make him sag into the mattress, and he smiled at Arthur’s quiet “Ah-ha!” of success.

“Good job. Now let me up so I can return the favor.”

“Always worried about doing your part. I don’t know, I rather like you this way.” Arthur shifted forward to kiss behind the other man’s ear, trailing love bites down to his shoulder blade.

“Mmph, but all my most fun parts aren’t accessible.” He inhaled sharply as Arthur licked the base of his spine.

“What do you mean? Your most fun part is right here.” Arthur replied, squeezing his ass when he said it.

“Arthur—”

“Oh, don’t whine.” He dismounted and watched Alfred flip over, a sunny smile on his face. Arthur smiled back, and resumed his position on top of him.

He pulled his own shirt over his head slowly, tossed it behind him, and stretched languidly. He watched Alfred ogle him dutifully, both of them laughing softly when their eyes met.

Arthur leaned down as Alfred tried to sit up, and they kissed desperately, wanting to finish where they’d left off almost two weeks before. Alfred relented on pressing up to meet him, let Arthur push him down and dominate his mouth with teeth and tongue, moaning softly as Arthur caressed his temple with a rough thumb, the other hand sliding down to brush over a nipple.

They broke for air, wordless, but Arthur set about kissing and biting his neck, stopping to lap at the spot where neck and shoulder met in answer to Alfred’s barely audible encouragements.

God, Arthur couldn’t keep his mouth off of him, not even to remove his trousers. He didn’t notice when they started rocking together until he felt Alfred’s length fully press against his pelvis. At that, he managed to detach himself enough to shift down so they could rut together more effectively, and he was rewarded with the sight of Alfred’s fluttering eyelashes and swollen lips.

“Alright there?”

“Oh, top notch.” Alfred smirked. He slid uneasy hands down Arthur’s sides and bit his own pretty red lip. “Except we’re less naked than we were last time.”

“Well let’s get that sorted, then.”

Arthur stood and stripped completely, ignoring Alfred’s wide-eyed stare. The more casual he was about it the better, he thought, as it would reduce this silly stage fright of Alfred’s. He draped himself against Alfred’s side and marched his fingers downward. “Need a little assistance there?”

Alfred just nodded, but it was an enthusiastic one. He lifted his hips as Arthur pulled the rest of his clothes off, and reached for him eagerly when it was done.

“Now,” Arthur managed between kisses, “Don’t think you’re going to distract me from feeling you up like the right perv I am.”

Alfred answered that by hooking a heavy leg over Arthur’s and dragging himself up in an agonizingly slow and thorough undulation. Their uncovered erections ground together, hot and heavy, and Arthur slid reverent hands over Alfred’s forearms, up to his shoulders, and finally up to cup his face. Beneath him, Alfred felt so firm and warm and alive, and Arthur rode the rise and fall of his chest, licked his way into his mouth, kissed him until that rise and fall became faster, more desperate.

“Unfair.” He whispered. “When will I get to grope you properly?”

“Put some time on my schedule.” Alfred replied. He didn’t even flinch when Arthur bit him for it, just slid his hands down to cup Arthur’s ass and frotted against him roughly.

“God, alright, alright—Jesus.” Luckily, Arthur’s bag was still at the foot of the bed, kicked down into a corner. Fumbling for the handles, the gardener yanked it up and began rooting around for lube and a condom.

Sitting up, Alfred toyed with the bottle of lube before speaking. “Um, that—you don’t need to, I mean you can if you want to, but I already did cause wow, it’s been—well, I just wanted to be ready?”

Arthur regarded him for a moment, then sighed deeply. “’Course you did. And when you know how good I am with my hands, too.”

“Y-you can still! Ah—” Alfred was redder than the roses blooming just outside. Taking pity on him, Arthur eased him back onto the mattress with shushes and smooches, grabbing the lube on the way. He raised his eyebrows pointedly as he coated his fingers.

Alfred was tight and hot as he pushed one inside, and he’d have thought he hadn’t been prepped at all, if he hadn’t said otherwise. That was more than fine, because _someone_ appeared to be delightfully sensitive.

“Oh my.” Arthur purred as Alfred panted hard from just that touch. “We’ll break down Mr. Prim and Proper yet, won’t we my love?”

Alfred just hummed in pleasure at that, and continued to squeak and sigh and moan quietly as Arthur teased him ruthlessly, with one, then two, then three—

“Nn—yaa, Arthur I’ll come, I’ll come, you can’t—”

Arthur ignored him completely, his expression perfectly serene as he eased three fingers in and pressed his thumb gently against his perineum. He massaged him inside and out with perfect patience and control while Alfred twitched violently and pulled at his own hair, his whining going up in volume and octave.

“Fucking—can’t, there are other _people_ in this _h-house_.”

“Oh, you should be worried there are other people on this _planet._ They’re going to hear you on the International Space Station.”

Alfred stopped biting his lips to giggle at that, and the heightened tension of the moment lessened enough for Arthur to take his hands off of him and get the condom instead. He was still as hard as he could get when he rolled it on, and Alfred was still so wound up he jolted a little when Arthur touched his thigh.

“Do you want—”

“Oh my god, please, you are _mean_ , Arthur. Put it in, put it in—”

Arthur interrupted him with a hasty kiss, laughing softly. “I am asking if you want to stay on your back.”

Alfred looked at him wide-eyed, then frowned. “I’m not _moving_ , do it _now—_ "

“Alright, brat.” Arthur said, pleased as punch at working the normally reserved man into such a state. He coaxed Alfred to wrap his legs around him and guided himself into that lithe body, soft and persistent, Alfred was eager for it—their hips flush, Arthur buried his face into the other’s neck to hide how _incredible_ it felt.

Alfred didn’t bother hiding anything, groaning sweetly into his ear. “So good.”

“Mmph. Hush if you want this to last.”

He didn’t, though. For someone keen on keeping this under wraps, Alfred was noisy as hell, shouting Arthur’s name as he began to thrust into him, telling him to go faster, harder, deeper.

Arthur slowed and pulled out to tease his entrance with the head of his cock, unsurprised at how undone Alfred became from the shallow thrusting. He swallowed down all that noise with his own gulping kisses, trying to eat him up. He was really just too tempting, curled around him and enjoying it so much, and Arthur had to push back against his own insecurities _hard_ to keep from being overwhelmed by it all.

Christ, but he had it bad. It wasn’t news to him. 

And it wasn’t conducive to good love-making, if length of the experience was part of the equation—already he was feeling a telltale pressure building up, and getting creative with his thrusts wasn’t helping, not when Alfred’s golden skin was shining with sweat and he was rocking up to meet him, arching sweetly and digging blunt fingernails into pale shoulder blades.

“Arthur, Arthur, please, touch me, touch me, touch me—”

Relieved, Arthur worked a hand between them to tug at Alfred’s tragically neglected cock, tugging it hard as he continued to relentlessly pound him into the mattress. He dipped down to lap at the hollows of Alfred’s collarbones because looking at his wanton face was unthinkable, undoable.

“So good, s’good, s’good, oh g-uh, mhm, feels s-ah—”

Alfred stiffened beneath him, and for all his noisiness he was totally silent when he came, covering his face with both hands and still pushing up to meet Arthur’s diminished motions.

Arthur didn’t fare so well, voicing a rather mortifying high-pitched wail when he finally tipped over the edge, hand still working the last of his lover’s spend from him. He stayed burrowed into Alfred’s side when they were finished, relishing the closeness, the satisfaction inherent in sticky skin and the feel of Alfred’s pulse slowing gradually against his cheek.

Soft lips at the tip of his ear convinced him to finally lift his face to see Alfred awkwardly trying to nip at him, face sly. “Would you like to stop being cute long enough to take a shower with me?”

The promise of soapy Alfred was enough for Arthur to let the cute comment go.

* * *

Epilogue:

Gardenias were such a bloody headache, but the lady of the house adored them, so Arthur grew them. A fussy plant for a fussy woman. Though, when your boss comes downstairs for a midnight snack to find you with your pants _literally_ down and merely makes a joke about pruning, you do whatever you can to keep her happy.

Plus, there are perks to spending hours on your knees. Like being eye-level with your boyfriend’s arse while he puts votives into tiny glass jars.

“What is this shindig for, again?” Arthur asked.

Alfred didn’t turn, just continued to work on the table settings with practiced efficiency. “Just a get-together for madam’s friends, I guess. I’m not sure. Francis is being strangely secretive about the food, and I was just told to do the minimum décor.”

Arthur hummed, satisfied. He went back to the gardenias with a smile.

* * *

“This is very unusual. I hope that madam isn’t going into one of her strange moods.” Alfred said as he straightened his bowtie. Arthur glanced at the other’s reflection, and let the sight of his man in a tuxedo soothe his raging nerves. He straightened his own jacket and stepped forward to smooth his hands down strong shoulders.

“I’m sure it’s something right silly, or I wouldn’t be here, surely. Best not to keep them waiting.”

Alfred furrowed his brows. “And who are ‘they,’ anyway? I still don’t have the guest list…”

Arthur just ushered him out, quickly, his stomach twisting the more suspicious Alfred became. They made their way into the gardens, where everyone was mingling in a similar state, though Alfred’s brother had a knowing glint in his eyes.

“What on earth!” Alfred’s composition shattered, and he grabbed Arthur’s hand. “What is this, am I dying and I haven’t been told?”

The crowd laughed, and Arthur drug him through it, to the front, just as he’d planned.

He found himself on his sore knees yet again, looking into tear-filled blue eyes.

“Now, before you even start—I checked, and it’s not against any rules.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments to soothe my troubled soul? Thanks for reading 2000+ words of mostly smut.  
> By the way, if you missed it, check out the latest chapter of my Subverting Expectations series! I am quite proud of it.
> 
> Take care, my friends <3


End file.
